He shook his head and stepped back from her. “Probably. But they haven’t yet, so we’re in better shape than we were at your office.”
“That’s true.” She looked around then, and Liam followed her gaze.
The first floor was covered in painter’s tarps. There were sawhorses scattered about and a few tools the crew had left behind. It was a room under construction, and the only thing it had going for it at the moment was that they were out of the cold and wet and noise. Then Liam looked down to where the water was still sliding through under the door frame.
“We go up,” he said, motioning toward the renovated grand staircase that sat in the middle of the room like an aging queen who’d had a makeover.
“This will flood, won’t it?”
As she said it, gusty winds rattled the windowpanes, and one of them on the other side of the room broke under the force of it. Rain and wind raced through that opening, and the other windows rattled again as if preparing to shatter themselves.
“Yeah,” he said. “It will. Probably soon. The construction crews started at the top and got one room done, at Sterling’s orders, before they went back down to the first floor. These old windows haven’t been replaced yet, and there’s enough water pouring in under the door frame that in another hour, we’ll be ankle deep—if it takes that long.”
“Right.”
Houston was such a cosmopolitan city, outsiders tended to forget that though it was sophisticated and civilized, this was still Texas and the weather could turn on you in an instant. Floods were all too common, so he knew well enough to take cover and wait it out. Liam had seen the devastation left in a flood’s wake, though he’d never been caught up in one himself.
They were being pelted with rain, and the wind, as it swept through the broken window, felt icy. He grabbed her hand and tugged her behind him. “Okay, let’s go.”
She stepped out of her heels, and barefoot, she was just a tiny thing. A protective instinct rose up in him, and he didn’t even try to stop it. Would have been pointless anyway. Halfway up the staircase, they jolted in tandem when the rest of the windows blew in. They both paused, turned to look at the damage, then Liam caught her hand in his and held on. “We go up.”
He’d keep her safe. Safe from the storm, anyway. Liam groaned inwardly. Hell, she’d be safe from him, too. But he wasn’t going to be comfortable anytime soon. Not with his body burning and his mind dredging up image after image of Chloe Hemsworth and him, naked, wrapped together. Gritting his teeth, he shut down his thoughts for his own good.
He had to give her points. She kept up with his much longer legs by running up the stairs beside him. They paused on the second-floor landing, and Liam looked around as if to reassure himself that all was well. Still needed paint and the new flooring was stacked against one wall. But it was warm and dry, so that was enough. Wouldn’t do them any good. Then he put a hand at the small of her back and steered her up the stairs again.
Here there was a wide seating area, complete with wet bar and flat-screen TV. There were two short couches, chairs and tables boasting brass lamps with Tiffany shades and it looked, he thought, like a damn oasis after the weather they’d just escaped.
“There are two bedrooms up here,” he said, walking toward a door on the right. “This one’s for the TCC president and the other, when it’s furnished, will be for the chairman of the board, or visiting guests.”
“When it’s furnished?” she repeated.
“Yeah.” He knew what she was thinking because it had occurred to him, too. There was only one bed in this place so they’d have to share. Or, Liam thought, maybe he should sleep on the wood floor. Or he could curl up into the fetal position and try to sleep on the miniature couch. A little discomfort might keep his head clear.
He opened the door to the furnished bedroom and stared. Something stirred inside Liam and he tamped it down. One look at that big bed, covered in a dark red comforter, boasting a mountain of pillows against its carved oak headboard, and all he could think about was throwing Chloe down onto it and rolling around with her for a good long while. But he couldn’t do that, so he told his treacherous brain to stop providing tempting images.